


Not Today

by Statari



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, KiddWay - Freeform, M/M, Male!Kidd, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-16
Updated: 2013-12-16
Packaged: 2018-01-04 19:31:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1084874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Statari/pseuds/Statari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Edward Kenway is injured during a failed mission to gather information about the Observatory.  Kidd renders aid and offers some of that pesky advice of his.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Today

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is a lot like my other one in places, so much so that I almost didn't post it. But, there's a shortage of kiddway fics out there so I figured I should go ahead and do my part. Mild mentions of blood in relation to Edward's injury, so if you don't like that sort of thing, don't read it. Otherwise, enjoy!
> 
> ^.^

There was only one response to the threat of death. Not today. Death would come for them all one day, a pirate sooner than an honest man, but the key to staying alive was to insist that death could wait for another day. That was all well said but the reality of it was more difficult than that, especially when you were bleeding from a gaping wound in your side.

Edward clutched at the wheel of the stolen schooner, his other hand pressed against a wad of bloody cloth. There were bodies on the deck below him, frozen in the last moments of their life. He didn’t care about them or the whores who would miss the payment of a regular customer. He just wanted them off the deck before the afternoon sun caused them to swell, fester, and stink. One of the noble sods had stood between him and a ride back to Nassau and given him this wound on top of it. It placed no weight on his soul to drive a wrist blade through the soft tissue under his jaw.

The day was bright, mockingly so. It ought to have been dark and gloomy, the world obscured by fog, but instead it was glaringly bright and oppressively hot. Sweat and blood mixed together, seeping down his torso and his leg. Every shift of weight caused a squelching sensation in his boot. Christ, he needed to find someone to sew it up for him before he lost too much blood and died on the deck of a stolen wreck.

Edward gritted his teeth and stepped away from the wheel for a moment. Limping over to the railing, he leaned back against a nearby barrel and began unbuckling the straps around his chest. The straps, his guns, and his swords were all set aside so he could disrobe. It also mean that, in order to remove his jacket, he had to set aside the rags he’d been using to stem the flow. Edward grimaced as a fresh wave of blood gushed out, stinging as it pushed dirt and sweat around inside the wound tract. One arm up over his head, he looked down to examine it closely. He’d live as long as he could stop the bleeding and get it cleaned up. Infection could kill him as surely as blood loss.

Luckily, Nassau was only a short sail away. He’d be there before the sun set. Which would be nice. It wasn’t comforting when your impromptu surgeon had to sew you up by candlight. Nice, bright sunshine, that always did the trick. Except, of course, when you were on the open sea with no shirt on. His skin was already beginning to burn so he put new rags against the open wound, and tied his shirt around his waist, tightly. 

Hours later, he saw the comforting sight of Nassau’s port and some familiar black flags on docked ships. Allies. He might be able to get this taken care of without having to pay for it, except for an owed favor of course.

The promise of a couple of coins earned him the help of a couple of sailors on the docks pulling the ship in. He didn’t relish having to haul on the ropes in his condition. He grudgingly handed the money over once his feet were on the grey wooden boards of the docks. The smell of brine, rum, and human waste was mildly disgusting but familiar. Almost like coming home. Almost. The Jackdaw was his true home and until he got her back from her place anchored off the coast of Havana this would have to do. Ade would probably return here at some point but when? It couldn’t be soon enough because the schooner that got him here was nothing in comparison. 

The bar was lively but not crowded. It was like that during the day and even the canvas awnings strung up over the deck could keep things cool. There was a table set up against the side of the shack, deep in shade. It held some of the Caribbean’s most notorious and wanted pirate captains, relaxing and drinking on a day too hot to attack. 

Edward grinned as he sauntered up. “Gentlemen,” he greeted facetiously. “What excuses might you have for lazing the day away here in Nassau?”

Jack Rackham grinned and shrugged nonchalantly. “We can can’t all be off stealing ships all by our lonesome like the great Captain Kenway!” His sharp eyes flickered over Edwards weary form before adding, “What in hellfire happened to you, mate? You look like shark bait.”

Edward smiled but it was thin and strained. “Fancy that. I feel a bit like shark bait at the moment. I don’t suppose any of you could point me in the direction of someone good with needle and thread.”

Before anyone could answer his question, they were interrupted by Kidd returning to the table with two pints in hand. He leaned in between Edward and Vane, placing both pints on the table. “I’m a fair hand with needle and thread but I won’t be mending your clothes. There are plenty of seamstresses you can pay for that kind of thing.” Kidd quirked and eyebrow and propped a hand on his hip. His dark eyes lingered on the red stain on Edward’s side and the rip in the fabric of his favorite coat. “But perhaps its not the coat you’re looking to fix,” Kidd finished keenly.

“Indeed,” Edward grunted. “I’ll need someone who can be trusted.”

“Well, come along then, if you think you can trust me.” Kidd spun on his heel with a saucy wink and began walking away. 

Edward nodded at the men at the table, who nodded back. He’d see them later, preferably to see if anyone would help him get revenge on the British Navy for forcing the Jackdaw to leave him behind. 

He followed Kidd to a hovel on the edge of town with one window and one door, both facing town. It was clearly a temporary arrangement since Kidd spent most of his time at sea. If he had a favorite port, Edward didn’t know of it. Secretive and careful, Kidd was an understated sort among the brash quality of person piracy attracted. Unusual but no less effective. He’d had the pleasure of working with Kidd a couple of times and despite his youth and his mystery he was every bit as good as Edward, which made him better than almost anyone else they knew.

Kidd disappeared inside and waved a hand towards the table and chairs on the rickety porch. Edward settled down on one of the chairs and began by taking off his coat. He’d unwrapped his shirt from around the wound by the time Kidd’s boots sounded on the wood. Edward glanced up. Kidd had a leather roll in hand, tied up neat. 

“Let’s see the damage, then,” James said, perching on the other chair with his feet tucked underneath him. He unrolled the leather on the table beside them, revealing an assortment of small tools that were clearly kept in good condition. 

Leaning to the side, Edward pulled the drenched wad of rags away from the wound. It was sticky and stinging. He held still as James leaned in and examined the wound. Edward could only sit there and stare ahead as the damage was assessed from a better angle. He studied the nuances of Kidd’s face, as though he could read the prognosis there before words were ever spoken. 

Narrowed eyes; furrowed brows; pursed lips. Was his guard down at the moment? Kidd’s face was highly expressive, always offering up a grin or a smirk. He seemed easy-going but Edward had no doubt that most of what showed up on Kidd’s face was carefully considered. He revealed only what he wanted to reveal. Was he as expressive when he didn’t have to be on guard against betrayal? Did he grin to redirect an already established trait or did he force himself to seem so open?

So many mysteries involved with this man. 

Edward hissed when Kidd’s nimble fingers pressed against the inflamed skin around the wound and pulled on it. “There’s debris in the wound,” Kidd finally said. “We’ll have to clean it before I can close it up.”

“Fantastic,” Edward grumbled. 

“Don’t be like that,” James scolded playfully as he stood to start a fire. “I’m doing you a favor, remember?”

“Yes and I appreciate it, but that doesn’t mean I have to enjoy myself.”

James took the steps down off the porch and pushed last night’s ashes from the circle of rocks in the dirt. As he bent down to start a fire, he gave Edward a wicked look. “Are you complaining about the company now too? I might have to rethink my offer and send you off to a seamstress desperate enough to mend your tattered hide.”

Edward’s laugh morphed into a whine of pain as the motion aggravated the wound. “Damn you, Kidd,” he grumbled. He pressed the already bloody clothing back against his side. 

James worked efficiently and quietly to build the fire and set a pot of water to boil. He then joined Edward on the porch once more, slouching back in his chair with his feet spread out. He tucked his hands into his red sash and nodded at Edward’s side. “You gonna survive until the pot’s ready? You’ve been awfully noisy about a little flesh wound.” His eyes glinted with mirth.

“Little?! It’s hardly a little wound. I was almost skewered like a pig and roasted on a spit.” Edward groused.

“Perhaps you should learn to keep your guard up, then. You might actually be able to make it out of a fight intact for a change.”

“Go to hell, Kidd.” Edward laughed, no heat behind the insult. It was true though. He was the more reckless of the two, always coming away from a fight with a bruise or a cut. He even sported sprained wrists, knees, and ankles from trying to jump too great a distance. But he always healed, if a little less than he had before.

James kicked Edward’s shin. “If I go to hell then you’ll be out of luck. So, what manner of trouble did you get yourself into this time?”

Edward shrugged. “I thought I’d found a lead on the Observatory but it was just a trap. The British showed up and almost scuttled the Jackdaw while I was ashore tracking a ghost.”

There was a strange sort of recognition in Kidd’s eyes at the mention of the Observatory. His dark eyes flickered for a moment before Kidd veiled them again. Edward was keen enough to catch it, especially since they’d talked about the Observatory before. Kidd had said it was only a myth but Edward was convinced it was real. He was convinced because the Templars were so interested in finding it, they must had reason to be so invested. But what would James Kidd know about it? Edward shook his head. Only time would tell just what secrets the young pirate was keeping from him.

“You’ve been tracking a ghost the entire time, Kenway. The Observatory doesn’t exist. It’s a story used to scare people. Do you really think there’s a device that could find a man wherever he is?”

Edward shrugged again. He’d seen a lot of strange things in his lifetime. It was no great stretch of the imagination. By magic or science or the will of the gods, there had to be something to it or the Templars wouldn’t be searching for it so hard. 

James narrowed his eyes towards Edward, who felt nailed to the spot as a result. He had to fight the urge to sink further into his chair as James said, “If there was something that could watch men and discover their most intimate secrets, why would want to find it? With the wave of a hand, someone could know all there is to know about you. Blackmail you to act the way they want you to. Doesn’t seem like something you’d approve of.”

Edward scoffed and leaned forward. “Perhaps I don’t believe it can do what they say it can do. It’s impossible, isn’t it? But the only thing that matters is that the Templars believe it and they’d be willing to pay through the nose to get their hands on it. With that much gold, I can retire home to England.”

It was Kidd’s turn to scoff, throwing his head to the side in disbelief. He then got up and returned to the fire rather than respond to it. Edwards mind drifted to the west as Kidd busied himself with removing the pot from the fire. Would Caroline have waited for him? Would she still be alive. After all these years, it was impossible for him to know. He wrote her at least once a year to let her know he was still alive, still thinking of her fondly, but she never wrote back, for whatever reason. Going home a man of wealth, a man of value, might be the only thing he could do to get her back now. Stealing from British schooners was never going to get him rich enough to do that. He needed a bigger score and the Observatory was his best option.

“I know you don’t approve of my ways, Kidd, but I’ve seen it proven time and time again. A man with money can do what he wants. He doesn’t have to answer to anyone, not even some demon in the West Indies who might claim to know all his secrets.”

“Don’t be daft, Kenway,” James snapped, approaching with a pot of hot water. “Money can’t magically make your life better. You’ve been a pirate for years. You know it’s not the case.”

“It hasn’t made my life better yet because I’m still a wanted man. Once I sell the location of the Observatory, I’ll be rich enough that England will welcome me home with open arms.”

James scowled, plunking the pot down on the table. He dipped a clean rag into the water, stripped away Edward’s makeshift bandage, and squeezed hot water out over the raw, bleeding flesh. Edward hissed and jerked away before stilling under the treatment. It was harsh for Kidd, but careful despite the ire directed towards him now.

“Life’s not about getting rich,” James murmured, continuing to rinse the wound.

“Of course it is,” Edward dismissed. “That’s all men care about, so it’s the only thing that matters.”

“The Assassins don’t.”

“The Assassins are hardly normal men.” 

They were more like religious zealots, as far as Edward was concerned. A bunch of natives running about wearing hoods to cover their faces, squawking about purpose and honor. There were only two he’d met that hadn’t been like that. The first, Duncan Walpole, was a traitor to the Assassins, willing to join their enemy. The other was James Kidd, a man who seemed to understand where Edward was coming from, even if he didn't approve.

Kidd was the only Assassin Edward would ever begin to trust and his was the only opinion that made Edward even think about reconsidering his stance. Think about it, but so far it hadn't convinced him. He wasn't the man James thought he was. It was about time he stopped trying to find more in Edward.

James looked away from his ministrations, up at Edward’s face. His lips were pinched in disapproval. 

“You weren't made to be a normal man, Kenway.”

“I appreciate your faith in me, Kidd, but I fear it’s misplaced. I've never wanted anything more than what I want now.”

With a shake of his head, James put the cloth in the pot, which now had water turned pink from Edward’s blood. He then took a wickedly sharp needle from his toolkit and brought it down to the fire where he held the tip in the open flame for a moment. Before returning to the table, he went inside and came back with a bottle of rum. He handed it to Edward. “Here, you might need this.”

Edward could only take a deep swig of the rum and let the alcohol do its work. He leaned heavily into the table as James crouched down beside him, level with his bloody canvas. 

“Are you ready?” James asked.

“Just get it over with.”

Edward sucked in a breath and held it at the first puncture of the needle and the painful slide of thick, sinewy thread through his skin. He hated this part. So he took another swig of rum. “You know,” he gasped, several stitches in, “I’m beginning to think that the only reason you offered to help me was to give me a bloody lecture when I can’t walk away.”

James rolled his eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic, Kenway. You could have left any time you wanted to.”

“Ah, but I’m not likely to find a seamstress with your lovely bedside manner, am I?” he asked.

With a pointed glare, James tugged extra harshly on the needle and thread, pulling it tight, but also causing it to pinch and pull on Edward’s skin. “Do you want me to simper at you like some lovely barmaid? Get you drunk and steal your purse once you've passed out?”

Edward grunted and took another gulp of rum, despite the threat. “At least a barmaid would offer a better view.” He jerked his chin at James and the small piece of inked skin he could see underneath Kidd’s shirt. The flat chest of a fellow pirate was nowhere near as entertaining from this angle as the bosom of a well-endowed barmaid, even if it did cost him the contents of his purse by the end of the night.

Although, it wasn't like Kidd was awful to look at. He had high cheekbones that highlighted the clever eyes and a nice, wide mouth that was almost always quirked in a teasing grin. Not to mention long, tapered fingers that could sew a man up and pick a lock. Any woman would be jealous of those fingers. They’d wish their own fingers could be so adept as much as they’d wish to have those fingers on their skin. Maybe they’d even be jealous of Edward who, at the moment, had Kidd’s attention entirely focused on him. Although, he might have wished it otherwise himself as Kidd tugged a bit too harshly once again.

“I’m not some little boy deckhand you can push about,” James warned at the brief implication of sexuality between the two of them.

“Don’t worry, I’d never try to pull one over on the great Captain Kidd,” Edward laughed. 

Despite his obvious youth, James Kidd was a pirate captain in his own right. He answered to a crew of salty sea dogs, same as the rest of them. If they hadn't mutinied on him yet, then surely James had something going for him beyond the ability to take a ship and spread the wealth.

Although Edward was certain of a fair amount of attraction between the two of them, he hadn't mentioned it or made a move. Kidd would have been a prime target at sea. He was young and fairly feminine in his looks. When the men got lusty from weeks at sea, of course they’d turn to the youngest among them. It happened all the time. Edward figured that if he ever made a move on James, he’d get a blade between his ribs for his trouble.

“Good thinking,” James said. “Although I never thought I’d hear myself accusing you of thinking.”

Edward grunted. “Of course you did. You've been poking at my conscience since the day we met. Always asking me what I really want out of life as though I’m not a grown man who’s already made his choices.”

James finished the last stitch, tied it off, and broke the thread. He gazed at Edward for a moment or two, his hands propped up on Edward’s thigh, still idly holding on to the needle. James pressed his mouth into a line and then knelt up. He placed a quick, dry kiss on the corner of Edward’s mouth, so lightly that Edward couldn’t really believe it had happened.

“Everything is permitted,” James whispered. 

He pressed his forehead against Edward’s temple and sighed.

“Even a man changing his mind about what he really wants out of life.”


End file.
